


Stadium

by Minutia_R



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Aliens Made Them Do It, Dark, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minutia_R/pseuds/Minutia_R
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't Finn.  That was the thing to remember.  It was the drugs, the sick bastards who'd captured them, doing this; it wasn't anything Finn wanted or chose.  But Poe's body wasn't getting the message.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stadium

Someone turned on the lights, and the audience began crowding in. Poe couldn't see them from where he was, on the dirt floor of some sort of stadium, but he heard the chatter of humans and Sullustans, the clicking of Ithorians, the loud belly laugh of a Hutt.

“I just flew in from D’Qar,” said Poe, “and boy, are my arms tired.”

The crowd didn't respond. Either they couldn't hear, or they didn't think Poe was very funny.

His arms were tired, though. Not so much from flying, as from having them chained above his head for . . . however long he’d been here. Between the darkness, the terror, and eventually the boredom, he’d kind of lost track.

Also, his ribs hurt from where he'd been kicked in them, trying to escape his captors earlier. He was starting to get hungry, and he had an itch above his left knee that he couldn’t scratch, and he didn't know where Finn was.

He wasn't going to even think about the possibility that Finn was dead. He wouldn't give him up for lost that easily, not after last time. Maybe he’d managed to get away, maybe he was coming to the rescue right now, with the whole squad at his back, but Poe couldn't quite believe that either All he knew was that Finn wasn't here with him. That could be good--or it could be very bad.

The crowd settled down as an announcer started talking, rolling phrases in Huttese that Poe didn't understand, and no one had been considerate enough to provide him with a translator. He could make a pretty educated guess, though. The General might have killed Jabba the Hutt ages ago, and the remnants of his organization may have moved planets a dozen times, keeping ahead of law enforcement and rival gangs, but Jabba’s Palace was still notorious for its entertainments. And since Poe wasn’t going to be able to put up a very amusing fight chained to the wall, he was probably here to be fucked by something.

The announcer finished talking, a hush fell over the stadium, and Poe involuntarily scooted a little closer to the wall. _Now_ would be a great time for a rescue.

Instead a hatch on the opposite wall creaked slowly open, and Poe watched, his gaze riveted and his mouth dry, as a tall, shambling form emerged from the shadows into the light.

“Finn?” he croaked.

Finn had obviously been drugged with something--his eyes were glazed and unfocused, and he walked with a heavy, stumbling gait. He wasn't wearing anything, which made Poe draw his legs in, suddenly more conscious of his own nakedness. He'd seen Finn naked before, because these things happened in crowded refreshers on military bases, but he'd never really looked, because again, in crowded refreshers on military bases you learned to be polite.

He couldn't help looking now. Finn's legs were all lean muscle, his shoulders impossibly broad. When he lost his balance for a second, and Poe caught a glimpse of his back, the ugly scar only emphasized the smooth, dark perfection of the rest of his skin. And he was sporting an impressive erection, long, thick, and glistening at the tip. He swung his head from side to side, barely pausing when his eyes passed over Poe, but his steps straightened out a bit and sped up, stalking towards Poe with a definite, horrifying sense of purpose.

"Hey. Buddy. Can you hear me in there?" Poe said, through a throat gone almost too dry to get the words out. There wasn't any reaction, as Finn closed the distance between them, no indication that he understood what Poe was saying or even heard the noises he was making. What had they given him? It was clearly something stronger than the sort of party drugs that sometimes got smuggled onto base. Brain-jagger? Pryocept? Whatever it was, Poe could smell it by now, radiating off Finn's body with unnatural heat, a sour undercurrent to the ordinary smell of Finn's sweat.

Finn grabbed Poe's chin and wrenched his head up, and--it wasn't Finn. That was the thing to remember. It was the drugs, the sick bastards who'd captured them, doing this; it wasn't anything Finn wanted or chose. But Poe's body wasn't getting the message. His own cock was half-hard, and he felt himself, despite everything, opening up to the touch, leaning in to it. It was just Finn, his friend, who would never hurt him, who frankly Poe wouldn't mind being fucked against a wall by if that was what he was into.

For just a second, Finn's eyes met Poe's, and it seemed like there was a spark of intelligence and personality in them. Poe tried to say, "Finn--" but as soon as he opened his mouth to talk, Finn brought his other hand to Poe's face, shoved his thumbs into the corners of Poe's mouth, forcing it wider. At the same time, Finn straightened up, bringing his cock level with Poe's face, and pushed in.

Poe tried to bite down--he didn't mean to, it was pure instinct--but Finn's fingers still held him open. Finn's only reaction was to grunt and thrust deeper, his cock bruising the back of Poe's throat, then opening it up. Poe's eyes watered and he retched, tasting his own bile as Finn withdrew slightly then thrust again in a jagged, uneven rhythm.

All Poe could do was try to breathe through his nose, and try not to bite again, because it was still Finn, and it wasn't his fault. He heard approving whistles from the crowd above, and they were almost comforting, because at least there was someone who he could fondly imagine blasting to bits until there was nothing left of them except stains on the stadium seating.

Finn pulled out then, and Poe fell forward, all his weight on his already-abused arms, breathing great gasps. He turned away from the sight of Finn's jutting cock bare centimeters from his face, coated with the thick saliva from the back of Poe's throat. Maybe--maybe--

Poe twisted away when Finn grabbed for him, not quite as fast as Finn's usual fighting speed. But that didn't matter; it wasn't like there was anywhere Poe could go. The chain brought him up short, and Finn had him again, lifting him up, the strength of his fingers bruising Poe's thighs. He swallowed back a sob, unwilling to give the audience the satisfaction of hearing it, but something raised a few scattered cheers anyway. Then he felt Finn's cock, hot and slick, pressing up against his asshole, felt Finn's labored breathing against his own chest.

"No," Poe breathed, "No, don't, Finn--" It was just babble, because Finn couldn't understand him, but Poe couldn't keep it in, couldn't worry about his pride anymore. There was only heat, and fear, and pain--but while Poe had expected something fast and brutal, it seemed to last forever, the way starlight stretched and distorted when you shifted into hyperspace. Every time he thought Finn was buried in him, he pushed deeper, and the pain faded but the pleasure was worse, Finn's skin against his, something he did with his hips that made Poe's insides feel like they were melting. He didn't want any of it, and he couldn't get away, and he thought he might be sick again.

Finally, Finn came with a full-throated cry, and let Poe back down onto the floor a second before slumping forward himself, passed out over Poe's legs. He was still breathing--Poe felt it and heard it, and was pathetically grateful. The applause of crowd was a distant background rumble; he couldn't even muster any anger over it just now.

Then the announcer started talking again, and Poe snapped to attention. He still couldn't understand, but there were shouts in response--those were numbers. Someone was bidding on him. Or on Finn.

"We're going to get out of this," said Poe. "I'll get us out of this, I swear." He said it softly, but he didn't really care who heard him at this point. He only wished Finn could.

Another wall hatch opened, and Poe tensed, ready to--actually, there was doubly nothing he could do about whatever was coming through that door, with his arms chained and Finn pinning down his legs. It turned out to be a couple of Gamorreans, probably the same ones who'd brought him here in the first place. It made Poe's skin crawl when they touched him, but they didn't do anything worse than drag him and Finn out of the stadium, in opposite directions.

That was bad enough. Poe tried to get a punch in, at least, but the guard just ignored it, slung Poe over one shoulder, and threw him into a too-small cell that smelled of unwashed laundry. The door slammed shut and Poe was left alone before he could think of anything to say to the guard's retreating back.

Poe had to go over the walls and the floor by touch, and the ceiling and especially the door, searching for weak spots even though it was too dark to see. He didn't find anything. The grate on the floor--which seemed to serve as both ventilation and Poe's only option if he needed to take a piss--was fixed firmly in place, and was too small to be any use even if it weren't. If he was going to get himself and Finn out of this, it was going to have to be when someone opened the door again. He should have--

He should have made a move on Finn when he'd had the chance, was what. It was just that there hadn't been much time, and there was always other stuff going on, and there were all sorts of weird and contradictory rumors about Stormtroopers and sex going around: they'd all been chemically castrated and denied the most basic sex ed; they fucked like Hoojibs whenever they weren't on a mission; they were expected to sexually service their superior officers and jerk off three times a day to recorded speeches by General Hux. It was true, anyway, that Finn didn't always have the firmest grasp on the difference between a request and an order, and what if Poe had asked and he'd said yes when he really meant no? Or--as long as Poe was being honest with himself--what if he'd just plain said no? There were enough people on base who Poe knew would say yes that it didn't seem worth the risk.

But if he had, maybe he could’ve tried remembering some of the good times right now. Because, fuck, Finn was gorgeous, but now Poe couldn’t think about that without also remembering the glazed look in Finn’s eyes, and Finn’s fingers holding his mouth open, and how the back of his throat still ached like a son of a bitch. And that wasn’t doing anyone any good.

After his fruitless search and equally fruitless self-recriminations, Poe lay down on the lumpy mattress on the floor of the cell. He was proud of his battle-won ability to fall asleep anywhere, at a moment's notice, but it didn't come so easily just now. Half a dozen plans for escape chased each other around inside his head, and every time he drifted off, he woke to another part of him hurting and screaming for attention--his ribs, his asshole, his arms. He finally slid into an uneasy dream, and woke up with a bitten-back scream when the door slid open. His escape plans rushed back in a confusing jumble, and he couldn't figure out whether to attack or try to spin some line of bullshit or--it was Finn.

Finn was wearing some weird sort of draped garment that grazed the top of his thighs, and the ridiculousness of it struck Poe and he doubled over laughing and couldn't stop.

"Oh shit, they gave you something too," said Finn.

Poe shook his head, but he still couldn't get any words out, which really wasn't going to convince Finn that he hadn't been drugged. Maybe he had? He didn't think so.

"C'mon," said Finn, and reached for Poe's hand. Instinctively, Poe jerked it out of reach and backed up to the other end of the mattress for good measure, and Finn's eyes went just a fraction wider in the dim light, his face a little more still. That sobered Poe up quickly.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm fine."

"Right." Finn's tone clearly said, _Wrong, but I'm not going to argue now._ "Let’s go."

They went, moving cautiously through half-lit corridors, then breaking into a run when they heard footsteps. Finn hit a button on a wall and a door slammed shut behind them, and then he got out a datastick and plugged it into a terminal as the shouts and pounding on the other side of the door got louder.

"It won't let us into the hangar without a spacecraft registry and a flight plan," said Finn. "Can you fake something up?"

Poe took his place at the terminal and Finn fell back to guard the door. "How'd you do it, anyway?" said Poe, his fingers flying over the symbols on autopilot.

"Some asshole guard decided they'd sample the goods while I was still too zonked out to tell on them later. I got their accesses, and--this." Finn shrugged and plucked at the fringe of his garment. "Oh, are you cold? Do you want--"

Poe caught himself between a flinch and another outburst of inappropriate laughter, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Finn go wide-eyed and still again for a second. How much did he remember of what had happened in the stadium, anyway? "No, thanks," said Poe. "I don't think I could pull that look off." He was cold, and he did wish he had something to wear. But in another second the opposite wall fell away, and he could see a hangar, and rows of assorted spacecraft. "Got it! Here, let me show you our ride."

They jogged down the center aisle, Poe scanning the berth numbers until he came to a Geonosian solar sailer. “There she is.”

Finn stood still for a second, gaping. “She’s _beautiful._ ”

“Right?” said Poe with a grin. “Might as well steal something nice. I flew one of these once and it’s amazing, the way it moves. Plus: no fuel signature. As long as we get out of scan range, no one’s going to be tracking us.” Unfortunately she didn’t have any guns, but you couldn’t have everything. After a bit of an argument with the key panel, Poe got the door open, and they climbed aboard.

“The guards managed to un-jam the door,” said Finn, with a nervous glance over his shoulder. “They’re after us.”

“I got this,” said Poe. The ship moved like a dream, the sail blossoming out behind her  
as soon as she cleared the bay doors. She picked up speed fast, and once they made the jump to hyperspace, Poe finally let himself relax.

Which meant that he had to hand over the controls to Finn and stumble over to the refresher, where he stood for a while leaning against the wall while his body tried to decide whether or not it was going to vomit. In the end he coughed up a few spoonfuls of bile which were all he had left in his stomach. It didn’t make him feel any better. It really didn’t make his ribs or his throat feel any better. He would have loved a water shower, but the ship wasn’t quite that plush. There was a sonic unit that got him pretty much clean, and he managed to find a jumpsuit that was too short in the legs and wrists. At least he could get it on and zip it most of the way up.

He took over the controls again and let Finn have a turn in the refresher while he checked their heading. Sixteen hours to the nearest Resistance base. He really wasn’t looking forward to explaining this fuckup of a mission to the General.

Finn took a long time in the refresher, and when he came out he was hollow-eyed and uncharacteristically quiet. The reality of things was probably catching up with him, too.

“Hey,” said Poe. “How are you feeling? Those kinds of drugs can really do a number on your system, even if you recovered faster than they expected you to.”

Finn didn’t answer right away. He sat in the passenger seat, looked out at hyperspace, and down at his hands. “The First Order is kind of shit,” he said finally. “But they do inoculate their Stormtroopers against most chemical weapons.”

“Inoculate,” Poe repeated, like it wasn’t a word. Like he didn’t understand what Finn was trying to tell him. “You mean . . . that was you?”

Finn looked up and met Poe’s eyes, and there was a jolt like Poe was having double vision, like he was here on the ship and also back in the stadium that one second when he’d met Finn’s eyes and thought he’d gotten through to him.

“Yeah,” said Finn. “All me.”

“No way. I was there. I saw the way you moved, the way you looked--trust me on this one, there was no one home.”

“So it turns out,” said Finn, “one thing Stormtrooper training is good for--you learn to do a really convincing imitation of a mindless automaton.”

Poe shook his head, but it was just a reflexive denial. Everything Finn was saying made a horrible kind of sense. He turned back to the controls, making some small adjustment, because he couldn’t look at Finn anymore.

“Fuck, Poe,” said Finn, his voice hoarse like he was trying not to cry, “I wish I could even say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’d do it again if I had to. I couldn’t . . . it was the only way out that I could see, and there was no way I was going to let those bastards keep you. Or me.”

“Why didn’t you let me know?” said Poe. “Just, like, a wink, or anything. I would’ve--I would’ve--”

“Yeah? What would you have done?”

Poe shook his head again, and for a while he thought that was all they were going to say on the subject. He couldn’t think of anything to say, anyway.

“I was scared,” said Finn eventually, quietly. “I was terrified out of my mind, and if I’d let you know it might’ve tipped someone else off, and I didn’t want you to hate me.”

“Just now,” said Poe, trying to think this one through. Everything made sense, but he couldn’t make any of it fit, in his brain. “You didn’t have to tell me anything. You could have just kept your mouth shut, and I never would’ve known.”

“I couldn’t. I thought I could, but I couldn’t. It’s not--I don’t expect you to forgive me or anything. I’ll talk to the General and have her assign me to a different group. I don’t mind.”

Poe could’ve said that he minded. He could have assured Finn that he didn’t hate him. With anyone else, it would’ve been easy, but it turned out that Poe couldn’t lie to Finn any more than Finn could lie to him. And the truth was, he had no fucking idea how he felt about any of this.

“Can you take the controls for a bit?” said Poe. “I’m going to bunk down. Wake me up when we’re there, and I’ll take us in.”

“Sure,” said Finn. “Of course.”

As he got up and Finn sat down, Poe caught a glimpse of Finn’s face, wide-eyed and still. And he knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep.


End file.
